


sometimes it seems like this world's closing in on me

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [26]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “Why are you guys so obsessed with leaving, huh?” Nicole asks. She can feel something building in the pit of her stomach; something hot and angry. “Why do you hate this place so much?”Wynonna snorts. “It’s literally the waiting place,” she says. “People just wait. Wait to die, usually.”“No,” Nicole says, shaking her head. There are words stuck in her throat that she can’t push out, but they boil and twist, and she sobs out something instead.





	sometimes it seems like this world's closing in on me

**Author's Note:**

> The summer of 1990 is coming to a close, Waverly is headed to college, and Nicole isn't handling this well (at all).

**“When I See You Smile” Bad English, 1989  
** _ Sometimes I wanna give up, wanna give in, I wanna quit the fight. And then I see you, baby, and everything’s alright, everything’s alright. When I see you smile, I can face the world. Oh, oh, you know I can do anything. _

“What do you think about this shirt?” Waverly asks. “Should I take it?”

Nicole looks up from the  _ Rolling Stone _ she’s reading, an old ‘86 issue with Van Halen on the cover. She found it on Waverly’s bookshelf, tucked between two history books that Waverly made Nicole pack up in a box. She’d finished the shelf and then laid out on Waverly’s bed, ankles crossed and the magazine high up on her chest so she could see it without having to crane her neck.

“I guess,” Nicole mutters.

Waverly pauses, the shirt hanging in midair over the suitcase. “That’s what you said about the last  _ three _ .”

Nicole sighs and lays the  _ Rolling Stone  _ down, her finger in the page she’s reading. “Because I already said you should probably just take your whole closet at this rate.”

“I don’t have room for my whole closet,” Waverly complains. “I only get one half of it, and it’s not big. My roommate-”

“ _ Eliza, from California _ ,” Nicole mumbles under her breath.

“Eliza, from California, gets the other side,” Waverly continues over her. She frowns and puts a hand on her hip. “Do you want to help or not?”

Nicole pushes back so she can sit up a little. “It’s my only day off this week, and we’re spending it packing,” she says.  _ Packing your things so you can leave me _ , she thinks to herself.

Waverly sighs and drops the shirt into the suitcase, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I know.” She picks at the comforter. “I just really need to get this stuff together. I leave in-”

“I know,” Nicole interrupts. “A month.”

She has a calendar on the wall in her bedroom, and she’s been crossing out the days as they go. There’s a giant red circle on the day Waverly is leaving - Nicole already took it off, and as soon as Waverly gets on the road, she’s going with Wynonna to the bank to cash her paycheck, and then to Mattie’s. She’s going to buy herself as many tapes as she can - she’ll need them all so she can send Waverly a mixtape every week.

Waverly nods, walking her fingers across the comforter, up and onto Nicole’s knee. “And if I get packing up out of the way  _ now _ , I can spend the whole month with you, not worrying about forgetting something.”

Nicole stares at Waverly for a moment, searching her face. She’s biting down on her bottom lip and there’s a small hopeful curl of her mouth in one corner. Nicole sighs softly. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Waverly smiles brightly, leaning in and kissing Nicole. Nicole’s hand slides to the back of Waverly’s head, holding her closer for a moment. She’s been making every kiss last, hoping that when they’re a province apart, Waverly doesn’t forget what this feels like. Her eyes burn and she pulls back, blinking hard to clear them as she stands up.

“So, what do you need me to do?” she asks, smoothing down the hem of her shirt.

Waverly jumps up off the bed and points at the stack of opened, but filled, boxes by the window. “Can you tape those for me?” 

Nicole picks up the roll of duct tape Gus had picked up at the hardware store and tears off a piece. She takes her time, carefully folding down every flap and lining them up before she adheres the tape. Waverly keeps going through her closet, pulling winter clothes that she thinks she might wear once she gets to school. Nicole listens to her hum Madonna songs and doesn’t complain; she’ll miss that, when Waverly is gone.

She glances up as Waverly tries to hurriedly stuff a shirt into her suitcase. “Hey,” she says slowly.

Waverly steps in front of the suitcase. “Hey.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “What’s cracking?”

Waverly shrugs her shoulders, tapping her foot against the floor. “Mr. T, probably. Because he’s always cracking skulls?” she adds when Nicole just blinks at her.

“What’re you hiding?”

“Nothing,” Waverly says quickly.

Nicole takes a step forward. “It’s something.”

Waverly steps back, the back of her thighs bumping against the suitcase. “It’s nothing,” she insists.

Nicole moves closer and strains her neck up. “Hey!” She tries to reach over Waverly, but Waverly’s hands push at her hips. “That’s  _ my _ shirt.”

“It’s not,” Waverly tries. She presses her fingernails into Nicole’s side and Nicole shivers. “It’s definitely mine.”

“It’s  _ mine _ ,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly opens her mouth, but closes it again. Her hands go flat against Nicole’s side, soothing the sting from the poking. “Don’t you want me to have it?” she asks, her voice soft.

Nicole shakes her head. “That’s my Corvette shirt.”

“Don’t you want me to have, though?” Waverly asks again.

Nicole looks over Waverly’s shoulder. It’s her  red-ringed white shirt with a Corvette screened across the front, and she hasn’t seen it for a while - a long while - but she thought that meant it was just in a drawer somewhere; not in Waverly’s room. “How long have you had it?”

Waverly purses her lips. “When did you bologna and plastic wrap Champ’s truck?”

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “ _ That  _ long?”

“So you won’t even miss it,” Waverly continues. “Because you obviously didn’t realize it was already gone.”

Nicole scratches at the back of her head. “You’ve really had it for that long?”

Waverly nods. “You remember you came in to The Patch, hollering at me about sleeping with Champ?”

Nicole winces. “I, uh…”

“ _ Accusing _ me of sleeping with Champ,” Waverly corrects. She smiles softly, threading her hands through Nicole’s hair. “Pointing fingers.”

Nicole sighs. “That was-”

“Wrong,” Waverly sings. “Inappropriate. Rude.”

Nicole flushes. “All of those things,” she says slowly.

“Misinformed. Ridiculous. Demoral-”

“Okay, okay,” Nicole says, putting her hand over Waverly’s mouth. She pulls it back with a frown when Waverly licks her palm. “You’re so grody.”

“Do you remember after we opened The Patch and I made you work with me and then we came back here?”

Nicole shakes her head slowly. “You made me watch  _ The Smurfs _ all afternoon.”

Waverly grins. “You stayed the night, and when you changed for bed, you threw this shirt in the dirty laundry pile. And I just… held onto it.”

Nicole exhales slowly. “You did?”

Waverly ducks her head a little. “I told you, I’ve been crazy about you since before I knew I could be.”

Nicole presses a finger to the bottom of Waverly’s chin, lifting her head high. “Ditto,” she whispers.

Waverly kisses her softly, their lips pressed together for a moment before she pulls away. “It’s kind of weird, now that I say it out loud.”

“It’s totally weird,” Nicole agrees, wrinkling her nose. “But it’s also kind of romantic.” She tugs at the collar of Waverly’s shirt, a tank top with roses on it. “Are you sure we  _ have _ to pack right now?”

Waverly steps in closer, her toes bumping against Nicole. “The faster we get it done…”

“The more time we can spend together,” Nicole finishes. She sighs. “I know.”

“So we’ll get done here, and then we can go for a drive,” Waverly says. She presses up on her tiptoes and kisses Nicole again. “Maybe we can go out towards Moose Lake.”

“You hate Moose Lake,” Nicole murmurs against Waverly’s mouth.

“I love you,” Waverly says. She pulls back and wiggles her eyebrows. “We can bring a tent.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “I’m not sleeping in a tent.”

Waverly laughs, spinning out of Nicole’s arms. “It was one time.”

“One time too many,” Nicole mutters. “There were noises and bugs and…” She shakes her head. “Never again.”

Waverly sucks in her lips to fight the smile on her face. “See, but this time, I’ll protect you.”

Nicole puffs out her chest. “I don’t need protecting.”

Waverly’s eyes soften. “Oh, baby,” she breathes out. She steps in close again, her hand in the center of Nicole’s chest. “We all need protecting.” She pauses and her eye flash. “From squirrels and fireflies.”

Nicole scowls. “It was a  _ raccoon _ , and they were mosquitos.”

Waverly laughs. “You can take on Tucker Gardner, but you can’t fight a garter snake.” She winks. “I’m glad Curtis was there. What would we have done?”

Nicole folds her arms over her chest. “You know what? I told him that sleeping in that tent in the backyard was a bad idea. And he didn’t listen. So, you know. It was only fair that he had to come sleep outside with us.”

Waverly sighs softly, her eyes glazed and distance. “At least he told us those stories.”

Nicole shudders. “You mean the ones about the Wright house, out in the salt flats? The one where the witch is buried?”

Waverly nods, still looking away. “And his  _ Witchy Woman _ cassingle.”

“We never did get that signature,” Nicole says quietly. “Still got the free milkshakes, though.”

Waverly laughs softly. “We always got free milkshakes.”

Nicole goes quiet for a moment, watching the way Waverly’s face changes as something goes through her head. Her eyes start to shine a little, almost wet, and then she blinks and it’s gone. She smiles crookedly at Nicole, shrugging a shoulder.

“I liked camping in the backyard,” she says. “But I probably wouldn’t like camping at Moose Lake.”

“No Curtis to protect us,” Nicole agrees.

Waverly takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do a little bit more, and then we can go to The Patch and get some food to go and drive out towards Top of the World. Maybe park.” She winks again. “Maybe  _ park _ .”

Nicole’s cheek burn, but she ducks her head and nods. “What do you need me to get?”

Waverly looks around her room. “Can you check under the bed? There might be a box of history books.”

“More?” Nicole asks, awed. “How many do you have?”

Waverly shrugs a shoulder. “One from each year I’ve been in school.”

“...Did you steal them?” Nicole asks slowly.

Waverly’s eyes widen. “ _ No _ . They were  _ gifts _ .”

Nicole snorts. She gets down on her hands and knees, reaching under the bed. She can feel fuzz and dirt, but no boxes. She sighs and lays down flat, pulling the skirt of the bed over her head to see. There’s one box, in the middle of the frame, pushed back towards the headboard. Nicole has to stretch to get a hold of the corner, but the box slides easily along the floor and out from under the bed.

She picks the lid off and frowns. “No textbooks,” she tells Waverly.

Waverly leans out of the closet. “What is it, then?”

Nicole looks down at the box, twisting her head to the side to read some of the scraps of paper on top. “Letters? To-”

Waverly slams the lid back down on the box. “Nevermind.”

Nicole pulls her hand close to her chest. “Okay,” she says slowly.

Waverly’s shoulders slump and she sits down. “They’re… they’re letters to my mom,” she admits. She lifts the lid off the box again, putting it aside. She picks up a large stack of folded paper, all with the same looping handwriting on the front of them, wrapped tightly together in a rubber band. “I wrote them a long time ago.”

Nicole drops her hand onto Waverly’s bare knee, rubbing softly. “You don’t need to explain, baby.”

Waverly shakes her head. “They all came back to me. Just after Curtis died, I was sad and you were gone and Wynonna was angry and I just… I needed to talk to someone.”

Nicole swallows heavily.

“I never heard back, obviously. It was a long shot,” Waverly says. “I only had one address for her, and I stole it from the desk drawer at The Patch. I thought…” She trails off, running her finger across the front of the top of the stack. “When nothing came back, I thought that maybe she was keeping them.” She scoffs. “But they came back eventually, with that bright red stamp on them. ‘Return to Sender’ it said. So, I threw the envelopes out and kept the letters.”

Nicole leans over, her lips against Waverly’s forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Waverly makes a noise that Nicole thinks is supposed to be a laugh. “You don’t need to be sorry.  _ She _ does.” Waverly leans into her side, her body heavy. “I’m glad she never got them, though. All they did were ask her to come back and… And I don’t need her.”

“Right,” Nicole says quietly.

“We don’t need them,” Waverly continues. “My mom. Your dad. They all left, and we don’t need them to come back.”

_ You’re leaving _ , is Nicole’s first thought. She buries it, somewhere deep and dark and swears to never think it again. Waverly is nothing like her mom; she’s nothing like Nicole’s dad. She’s leaving, but she’s not leaving forever. She’s leaving and coming back. She’s leaving, just for a little while.  _ She’s still leaving _ , a voice whispers. 

“Baby?” Waverly’s voice cuts through the fog in her head. “Are you okay?”

Nicole blinks. “What?”

Waverly’s hand presses against her cheek. “You went far away.”

_ You’re going to be so far away _ , the voice says. Now that it’s there, she can’t get it to go away.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Honest.”

Waverly looks at her for another moment before nodding slowly and putting the letters back down. She laughs, sharp and bright, tugging an old pink book out of the box. “My diary,” she explains. “It’s probably just a bunch of stuff about how you and Wynonna are the worst,” she teases. She tosses it back in.

Nicole looks down as the diary hits the letters. “Oh, there’s a tape in here,” she says, reaching for it. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Waverly wince, but she ignores it, pulling at the plastic corner until she frees it from the box.

“It’s bedazzled,” Nicole breathes out.

“Duh,” Waverly snorts. “Of course it is.” She peers over Nicole’s shoulder. “I don’t remember…  _ Oh _ .”

“Oh?” Nicole asks.

Waverly holds out her hand. “Why don’t you just give it to me?”

Nicole’s grip tightens on the case.

“Seriously,” Waverly says, bordering on a plea. “Just, you know. Give it back.”

Nicole slides back on the floor. “What’s the big deal?”

Waverly moves closer. “Come on.”

Nicole glances down at the tape. The see-through plastic case is heavily bedazzled and she can’t see the name of the tape beneath it.

Waverly makes her voice soft and sweet. “Baby,” she tries. “Just give it to me.”

Nicole shakes her head slowly and pushes up onto her knees before she stands, backing up carefully. 

Waverly is quicker, standing abruptly, the sweetness gone. “Nicole Marie Haught,” she says, her voice low and warning.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Gimme the tape.”

“I’m just going to take a quick look, and then I’ll give it back.”

“Don’t look at it.”

Nicole pops her thumb between the back and the front. The plastic makes a cracking sound, years of unuse tightening it. Waverly swallows hard. Nicole pauses, waiting for a reaction, but there’s nothing on Waverly’s face that says she really, honest-to-god shouldn’t look, so she does.

“To: Nicole. Happy Birthday,” she reads out loud. She looks up, frowning. “My birthday?”

Waverly shrugs, looking at the carpet. “Your twelfth birthday.”

“The one at The Patch?”

Waverly nods. 

Nicole frowns again. “But you got me-”

“I know,” Waverly says quickly. “But it was my second idea. This… this was my first one.”

Nicole runs her finger over the jewels that Waverly adhered to the front of the case, feeling them under her fingers. “You made me a mixtape?”

“Curtis made it, really,” Waverly admits. “I couldn’t get the hang of the stopping and starting.” She waves a hand at Nicole. “The first minute is, like, four songs all mashed together before Curtis took pity on me and helped me make it.”

Nicole turns the case over, finding the track list shoved into the front of it. She pulls it out and reads it over, smiling softly at 10-year-old Waverly’s handwriting. It’s still the same loops and hearts and long, drawn out letters.

Waverly bites down on her bottom lip. “They’re all the songs you said were your favorite that year.”

“Human League, John Cougar,” Nicole reads. “Cars, Journey, Asia. You put Alabama on here.”

Waverly squints. “And Van Halen, Billy Idol, and The Police, right?”

Nicole frowns. “Bob Seger, though?”

Waverly puts a hand on her hip. “You said you hated ‘We’ve Got Tonight’ when it first came out, but when Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton did it together, you listened to it on repeat for weeks.”

“No, I didn’t,” Nicole defends weakly.

Waverly raises an eyebrow. “I catalogued everything about you, Nicole Haught. I know what songs you liked.”

Nicole ducks her head. She really did love Kenny and Sheena’s version of ‘We’ve Got Tonight’, but Wynonna had made fun of her for listening to it so much, and Nicole had given the tape to Nathan. 

“You made me a mixtape,” she says softly.

Waverly’s cheeks flush red and she walks to her desk, picking up a floppy disk that Nicole knows has  _ Boulder Dash _ on it. She tucks it into the small case of floppy disks on her desk, each with its own PC Booter game on it;  _ for when I get bored at the library _ , she told Nicole.  

“I told you I was going to.”

“We were nine,” Nicole reminds her.

“I was eight,” Waverly argues. Her eyes soften. “But like I said, I catalogued everything about you.”

“You did,” Nicole says softly.

Waverly grins. “Because I was crazy about you and I wanted to do  _ everything _ with you.”

Nicole swallows heavily.  _ Then why are you leaving me _ , she wants to ask.  _ Why can’t you stay here? There’s a community college in the city with a good history program. There’s colleges that are kilometers closer than the one you picked _ . 

“Loved,” she finally manages.

“ _ Loves _ ,” Waverly corrects.

Nicole smiles and carefully tucks the track listing back into the cassette case.

“Come here,” Waverly says, even as she steps closer. She grabs for the bottom of Nicole’s shirt once she’s close enough, pulling Nicole the rest of the way. Her kiss is hard, harder than Nicole was expecting. 

“Break it up,” Wynonna shouts, coming through the door. She’s got one hand over her eyes, the other out in front of her as she moves into the room. Her hand bumps against Nicole’s shoulder and then she smacks Nicole hard.

“What was that for?” Nicole asks, wincing. She moves out of the way and rubs at her shoulder.

Wynonna peeks through the hand over her eyes and then drops it, winking. “I’m sure there’s a reason.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and turns back to her suitcase, refolding Nicole’s old Corvette shirt and placing it on the pile carefully. “Was there a reason you’re in here?”

Wynonna sits on the edge of Waverly’s bed, her arms stretched out. “I have  _ news _ .”

“You’re finally joining the circus?” Waverly asks hopefully. “Their bearded lady is retiring and you’re taking her place.”

Wynonna scoffs. “As if. I’d be the lion tamer, thank you. I mean, you should see how  _ Doc _ jumps when I crack the-”

Nicole claps her hands over her ears. “Grody.”

Wynonna wiggles her eyebrows at Nicole. “It’s  _ better _ than being a lion tamer, though.” She pauses. “It’s pretty much the  _ best _ thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Waverly and Nicole look at each other, then Wynonna expectantly.

Wynonna looks between the two of them, huffing after a minute of silence. “What does it take for a girl to get a drum roll?”

Waverly picks up a book - one of the few left on her bookshelf - and drops it on the floor.

Wynonna points a finger at her. “That was  _ lame _ .” She drums her fingers on her knees and grins up at them. “The Banditos asked me to join them!”

“The  _ what _ ?” Waverly asks after a minute.

“The Banditos,” Wynonna repeats, still smiling.

“A biker gang,” Nicole says dryly.

“They’re just a gang of people on bikes,” Wynonna argues.

Nicole looks at Waverly and rolls her eyes. “A biker gang,” she repeats.

Wynonna scoffs. “Whatever, narbo. They’re taking Doc on their next run, and they asked me to come along.”

“They’re next run?” Nicole asks.

Waverly shakes her head slowly.

Wynonna smiles even wider. “In, like, a few months. A cross-country trip. It’ll be  _ at least _ two months.” Her eyes widen. “Which means I need to get moving on my bike.”

_ Oh _ , Nicole thinks.

“Oh,” she says out loud.

“Isn’t it  _ killer _ ?” Wynonna continues on. “Me, Doc, Valdez. Our bikes. The open road.” She turns, her eyes wide. “The open road  _ out  _ of Purgatory.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Gus will kill you.”

Wynonna shrugs. “She won’t care.”

Waverly waves a finger at her. “She’ll kill you,” she repeats.

Wynonna stands up from the bed. “Who cares? She has a few months to get used to the idea. And maybe they won’t end up riding out, but…” She grins widely. “ _ Finally _ . The Banditos.”

“So…” Nicole tips her head to the side, frowning. “So, you’re leaving.”

Wynonna nods. “Eventually.” She snorts. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to stay here for the rest of my life.” She turns to Waverly, saying something else.

Nicole can’t hear her.  _ Eventually _ keeps repeating in her head like the chorus of a song she doesn’t know the words to. 

_ Waverly is leaving _ , she thinks.  _ Waverly is leaving and Wynonna is leaving.  _ She blinks hard against the tears forming in her eyes, turning back to the bookshelf, the tape 10-year-old Waverly made for her still in her hand.

_ Everyone is leaving. _

_ Everyone is leaving  _ me.

 

-

“Take those to the kitchen, would you?” Gus asks, unloading a box of potatoes from the trunk of her car into Nicole’s arms.

Nicole grunts under the weight of the box, adjusting her grip so the corner doesn’t rip into her leather jacket. She staggers up the back steps and shoulders the screen door open. The kitchen is a rush of activity - Bobo is directing traffic, yelling at the prep cooks and waving a spatula around like a third arm. Nicole spots an open stretch of counter and drops the heavy box of potatoes down with a  _ thud _ . Bobo pauses, just for a moment, and the waitress he was reprimanding slips out of the kitchen.

Bobo scowls. “I wasn’t done with her.”

Nicole shrugs. “I’m just doing what Gus told me to.”

Bobo shakes his head. “If this wasn’t for Waverly…” He trails off, taking a deep breath. “Where is she, anyway?”

Nicole pushes her hands into her jean pockets. “How would I know?”

Bobo narrows his eyes. “Because you two are attached at the hip?”

“No, we’re not,” Nicole says firmly.

“Yes, you are,” Bobo fires back. “You always have been. What the hell is the matter with you, girl?”

Nicole looks down at the faded tile under her feet. “What do you mean?”

Bobo puts down his spatula, stepping closer as one of the prep cooks moves around him, already cutting the potatoes Nicole brought in down into fries. “I mean, you’ve been moping around here for a month. Sad songs on the jukebox. Shooting Waverly down when she suggests something.” He squints at her. “You missed the Sunday opening shift.”

“You know, I don’t even know why Waverly is still picking up shifts,” Nicole says, trying to change the subject.

Bobo catches on. “No, no. Don’t ignore me. Something is wrong with you. She complained about you all day, you know.”

Nicole pauses, swallowing hard. “She… She did?”

Bobo nods. “She’s worried she did something wrong.”

“She’s  _ leaving _ ,” Nicole mutters.

“Well, everyone leaves, girl,” Bobo says.

“Not you.” Nicole presses a hand against her chest. “Not me.”

“ _ Most _ everyone leaves, then,” Bobo corrects.

Nicole scowls and looks away, picking at her thumb, her hand still in her pocket.

Bobo nods slowly. “Oh, I see.”

Nicole’s head snaps around. “What do you see?”

Bobo puts a hand up in surrender. “Nothing,” he says quickly.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Nicole says.

“Sure you are,” Bobo says. “If you say so.”

“I say,” Nicole says firmly, her jaw clenched. “Just leave it alone. Bobo _ the clown _ ,” she adds. 

Bobo picks up his spatula and shrugs. “Just remember that we both know you’re not mad at me.”

Nicole huffs and storms back out of the kitchen, into the dining room. Waverly is sitting at the counter, talking to Chrissy and Rosita. Nicole pauses in the doorway for a moment before the swinging door catches the heel of her Red Wings. Waverly looks up at the soft  _ oof _ Nicole lets out, smiling instantly. 

“Hey, you’re here.”

“I’ve been here,” Nicole says tightly. 

Waverly pauses, her smile dimming briefly.

Nicole instantly softens. She knows Waverly is getting tired of her. She’s been cagey and snappy lately, and Waverly’s patience is starting to wear thin. She rests her hands on the counter, nearly touching Waverly’s hand.

_ Good _ , a part of Nicole thinks.  _ Push her away and it’ll hurt a little less _ .

But another part of her aches at the thought. 

“What crawled up your-”

“Rosita,” Waverly snaps. “Stop.”

Rosita narrows her eyes, glaring at Nicole. “No. She’s been a total hoser the last few weeks, and it’s annoying.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she mutters. She moves to shove her hands back into her pockets.

“No, wait,” Waverly says, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. She lets go quickly, putting her hand flat against the counter. 

Nicole softens again, her shoulders dropping. “Sorry,” she says quietly.

Waverly’s hand moves forward again, her fingers resting on top of Nicole’s. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nicole says. She turns her hand over, their fingers tangling together.

“I thought you were working today?” Waverly asks.

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. She was supposed to work today, but Nedley heard about Waverly’s going-away party and traded her shift for Landry’s instead. Nicole hadn’t said anything, wanting to keep it to herself in case she wasn’t sure she could stand to be here. 

She’s not sure she can stand to see everyone wish Waverly good luck on  _ leaving _ . 

“Last minute change,” she fibs.

Waverly smiles hesitantly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The jukebox is playing some Richard Marx, one of Waverly’s favorites, but it settles into the quickly-emptying space in Nicole’s chest tightly, pressing hard against her sides.

“ _ Wherever you go, whatever you do _ …”

Nicole looks up briefly, eyes flickering towards Rosita and Chrissy. Rosita is still glaring at her, her heavy makeup -  _ Madonna is doing it, so can I _ , she said - making her look angier. Chrissy smiles at her for a second before looking back at her plate of fries.

“ _ I will be right here waiting for you _ .”

Nicole sighs softly. “Me, too,” she admits. 

Waverly’s smile widens. “So you’re staying for the party, then?”

Nicole looks around The Patch, taking in all of the decorations Chrissy, Rosita, and Waverly spent the morning putting up. Gus is directing the waitresses on moving tables. She can still hear Bobo shouting at the cooks. Everything feels like it’s closing in on her, suffocating her.

Waverly’s hand is suddenly too much.

She slides her hand out from Waverly’s, shoving it into her pocket. She tries to ignore the flash of pain on Waverly’s face, focusing instead on the song playing.

_ “Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right here waiting for you.” _

Nicole scowls. “Richard Marx is a poser, you know.”

Waverly sighs. “Yeah, you’ve said.”

Nicole toes at the linoleum and pulls her shoulders up high around her ears. “I think i need to head down to the station, actually,” she says. “I left my jacket there.”

Waverly eyes her warily. “The jacket you’re wearing?” she asks slowly.

“ _ I took for granted, all the times that I thought would last somehow. I hear the laughter, I taste the tears, but I can't get near you now. _ ”

Nicole feels her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t give in to her embarrassment. “My other jacket.”

“You don’t have another jacket,” Waverly says.

Rosita scoffs. “Just let her leave. She obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Nicole scowls. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s  _ yours _ ?” Rosita asks.

“I don’t have one.” Nicole looks away. “You know what, I’m out of here.” She starts towards the front door, jumping out of the path of a waitress as she pushes a table towards the windows. 

“ _ Rosita _ ,” Waverly hisses from behind her.

Nicole can hear Waverly’s shoes against the linoleum as she rounds the counter and moves across the dining room. Nicole is almost at the door, reaching for the handle, but it opens before she can get there, and Wynonna is pushing into the building.

“There you are,” she says loudly, hooking her arm in Nicole’s. “Nathan said he didn’t know where you were. What a putz. Obviously, you’re here. I told him that, but he said no way. Something about you being a dramatic loser.” She turns them around, coming face to face with Waverly. Wynonna barely glances at her.

“Here I am,” Nicole says tightly. Her eyes roam Waverly’s face, taking in the tick in her jaw and the edge in her eyes. She takes a small step forward, wetting her bottom lip as she tries to come up with the right thing to say to Waverly.

“Perfect,” Wynonna says loudly, tugging on her arm. “I know this thing is about to start, but I parked my bike out back and I need someone to hold my tools for me.”

Waverly takes a step back, her arms coming up and folding across her chest. “Go ahead,” she says quietly.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Like she needs your permission.”

“Wynonna,” Nicole says.

“What?” Wynonna asks. “It’s not like it matters. In, like, two weeks, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want.”

Waverly’s eyes narrow.

“Wynonna,” Nicole says, her voice a little sharper.

“You can always do whatever you want, whenever you want,” Waverly says. She purses her lips. “I have to get ready for the party. See you around. Or whatever,” she adds, rolling her eyes. She turns sharply and marches back towards the counter, whispering something to Rosita. Nicole can’t hear the words, but the noise is sharp, and Rosita pulls back a little, frowning.

Nicole lets Wynonna pull her out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and down the back steps. Her 1970 Triumph TR6 is parked by the dumpster. A toolbox with  _ Bustillos _ stenciled across it is on the back of the bike, strapped down. 

“Did you ask before you took those?” Nicole asks warily.

Wynonna winks at her and Nicole sighs.

Nicole grabs a milkcrate and dusts if off, stacking it on top of another one before she sits down on them near the Triumph. She can hear Wynonna talking, but she’s not sure what she’s saying. She keeps hearing Waverly say ‘ _ Or whatever _ ’ over and over in her head.

_ Like she’s not leaving me here _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Or whatever, like I’m the one who doesn’t get to be upset. Or whatever, like I’m not the one getting left behind _ .

“You’re dead weight,” Wynonna says.

Nicole startles, looking up. “What?”

“I said, you’re dead weight right now,” Wynonna repeats. “I’ve asked you, like, a hundred time to pass me the lug nut and you’re just standing there with the Phillips.”

Nicole looks down at her hand and frowns. She puts down the screwdriver and picks up the handful of lug nuts, handing them over.

Wynonna takes it slowly, eyes narrowed as she thinks. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” Nicole says quickly, picking up a pair of pliers.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “You’re a crappy liar.” She sighs. “Is it because I called Waverly a ball and chain? Because, like, I’m not wrong.”

“No,” Nicole says, suddenly tired.

“I mean, aren’t you excited to  _ finally _ make your own choices?” Wynonna continues. “For the first time in your life, basically, you won’t be tied down to what  _ Waverly _ wants to do. You can listen to whatever music you want.”

“No,” Nicole repeats.

“Go see whatever movies you want to see, drink whatever you want to drink.” Wynonna points a wrench at her. “You can watch all the television you want and you never have to ask permission for anything and you can  _ leave _ Purgatory if you want to and not-”

“ _ No _ ,” Nicole says loudly.

Wynonna pauses, a wrench in one hand. “Okay,” she says slowly.

“Why are you guys so obsessed with leaving, huh?” Nicole asks. She can feel something building in the pit of her stomach; something hot and angry. “Why do you hate this place so much?”

Wynonna snorts. “It’s literally the waiting place,” she says. “People just wait. Wait to die, usually.”

“No,” Nicole says, shaking her head. There are words stuck in her throat that she can’t push out, but they boil and twist, and she sobs out something instead.

Wynonna’s eyes widen slightly. “Hey, what’s-”

“What’s so bad about Purgatory?” Nicole asks, the pliers falling from her hand. She advances on Wynonna, her eyes burning with tears. Her hands curl around the collar of Wynonna’s shirt, pulling her in. “What’s so bad about  _ me _ ?”

Wynonna slowly wraps her hands around Nicole’s, squeezing them gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says softly.

“Then why is everyone  _ leaving _ ?” Nicole asks, her voice hoarse. She shakes Wynonna a little, pushing her backwards.

“We’re not leaving  _ you _ ,” Wynonna says, her voice still quiet. “No one is leaving  _ you _ .”

Nicole’s grip goes slack. “That’s what it feels like,” she admits, her body sagging forward.

Wynonna’s hands slide up her arms and over her shoulders, pulling her close. “Is this why you’ve been a total putt lately?” she asks, the words hot against Nicole’s ear.

Nicole squeezes her eyes tight and presses her face into Wynonna’s shirt. Her hands grab at Wynonna’s back, sliding over the fabric of her shirt, clutching tight. She takes a few deep breaths before she straightens up and pushes Wynonna back gently.

“I’m fine,” she says, wiping at her eyes.

“Nicole,” Wynonna starts.

“I said, I’m  _ fine _ .” Nicole picks up the pliers she dropped and holds them out to Wynonna. “Listen, they need me down at the station, so… Can you tell Waverly I’ll swing by later?”

“Nicole,” Wynonna tries again.

Nicole doesn’t wait to hear the rest, pulling her shoulders up around her ears and kicking through the screen door into the kitchen. Her keys are in the office and she thinks she can slip in, grab them, and slip out. She steps into The Patch, ducking her head against the sudden burst of noise that hits her. Everyone is laughing, sharing plates of food, crowding around Waverly in swells. 

She ignores them all, ducking into the office. She finds her keys buried under Waverly’s coat and Gus’s morning newspaper. She closes the office door softly, gasping when she turns around and Waverly is right behind her. She presses a hand to her chest and takes a step back.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Waverly says.

“I have to get to the station,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly rolls her lips in, like there’s something she wants to say. She shakes her head softly and steps to the side.

“I’ll call you later,” Nicole says half-heartedly.

Waverly shrugs a shoulder. “Only if you’re ready to tell me what’s going on.”

Nicole swallows heavily.  _ You’re leaving. That’s what going on _ , she wants to say. Instead, she purses her lips and shrugs back. “Nothing is going on.”

“Nicole,” Waverly warns. She takes a small step closer. “You’ve been saying that for weeks now. And for weeks, you’ve been lying.”

“I’m just busy at the station,” Nicole tries.

Waverly crosses her arms over her chest. She opens her mouth to say something, but Gus’s voice echoes down the small hallway.

“Waverly! Where are you, girl.”

Nicole presses herself against the wall, moving around Waverly. “I have to go,” she repeats. “I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

She doesn’t wait for Waverly’s answer, pushing through the small crowd towards the door. She sits in the car for a moment, letting the engine idle as she carefully slides a tape into the deck.

Nicole turns the case over in her hands, running her fingers over the jeweled cover as Human League picks up in the middle of their song.

_ “Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Ohh, ohh.” _

Nicole revs the engine and pulls out of her parking spot hard enough to make the tires squeal.

 

-

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Waverly asks softly, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the radio playing “Losing My Religion.”

Nicole leans back on the hood of her car, all of her weight on her palms. Lover’s Lane is mercifully empty tonight, and they parked as far down as her car could go before they ran out of packed down dirt. She parked and got out, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. She looks at all of the open space around them, but the air in her lungs still feels stuck.

“Because  _ something _ is wrong,” Waverly continues. “It’s been wrong for a little while. But you won’t tell me  _ what _ .”

Nicole shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

Waverly moves closer, careful to lift herself up a little as she slides in so that her jeans don’t scratch the hood of Nicole’s car. Her hand rests on Nicole’s knee. “Baby-”

Nicole twists her knee out of Waverly’s hand.

Waverly pauses. “Sure.  _ Nothing _ is wrong and it’s  _ definitely _ not a big deal.”

Nicole sighs and sits up, rubbing at the back of her neck. It’s been a few days since Waverly’s party - more days than Waverly has left in Purgatory before leaving for college. She’s spent all of them working and listening to that mixtape Waverly made on repeat, feeling sorry for herself. Wynonna keeps walking around her like she’s tiptoeing, waiting for Nicole to deck her or cry or maybe do both. Even Gus is staring at her funny on the days she does come into The Patch - just a few minutes before Waverly’s shift, or a few minutes after she leaves, every time - and it’s the same look she gave Nicole years ago, after Curtis’s death.

“I’m stressed about work,” Nicole tries.

Waverly pushes off the hood of the car, turning and glaring at Nicole. “When did we start lying to each other?”

_ When did you decide you were going to leave me _ ?

Nicole opens her mouth, but Waverly holds a hand up to stop her.

“All month, everyone has been saying that you’re being a total hoser, and  _ I’ve _ been saying you’re not, but you know what?” Waverly doesn’t wait for an answer. “You  _ are _ . You’re being a… a  _ jerk _ .”

Nicole swallows hard against the lump in her throat and nods her head towards where the dirt road disappears into the woods, headed back towards the highway. “So why don’t you go, then. Get a head start on that college experience. Maybe you can beat Eliza to your dorm.”

“Nicole!” Waverly shouts, stomping her foot into the dirt.

“What?” Nicole asks wearily. She drops her head into her hand, rubbing at her forehead.

“Don’t you even care that I’m leaving?” Waverly asks, her voice low.

Nicole’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I said,” Waverly starts, her hand clenched in a fist at her side. “Don’t you even care that I’m leaving?”

“Don’t I…” Nicole shakes her head. “Don’t  _ I _ care that you’re leaving?”

“Because all month, all you’ve been doing is pouting and throwing a fit.” Waverly starts to pace, moving back and forth along the front bumper of the car. “You don’t want to help me pack. You don’t want to hang out after work. You haven’t made me a mixtape, like,  _ all summer _ . I start talking about school and you suddenly have somewhere to be.” She stops, her hands on her hips again and her eyes narrowed. “What else am I supposed to think?”

_ You’re supposed to think that I can’t stand to watch you leaving _ , she thinks.

Waverly starts moving again. “You know what, just… Just take me home.”

“Fine,” Nicole says sharply, getting off the hood of the car.

Waverly throws her hands up in the air. “That’s it?  _ Fine _ ? You’ll just take me home?”

Nicole frowns. “You just asked me to-”

“Don’t you  _ care _ that I’m leaving?”

“I care too much!” Nicole shouts. She takes a step back, bumping against her car. Her chest aches and her palms are red from where her fingernails dug into them. “I care way, way too much.”

Waverly scoffs. “You’re doing a really good job of hiding it.”

Nicole moves forward, her hands reaching for Waverly’s waist. She pauses, letting them hover over Waverly’s body and waiting for Waverly to nod before she lets them rest on the curve of her hips. “I can’t stand that you’re leaving,” she admits. “All summer, all I’ve been thinking about is that you’re leaving. And I can’t stand it.”

“So, you do care?”

Nicole laughs, a long and drawn out noise that ends in a soft sob. Waverly presses her hand against Nicole’s face, her thumb brushing along Nicole’s cheek. Somewhere behind her, Nicole can hear the DJ start the next song.

“ _ It was a rainy night when he came into sight: standing by the road, no umbrella, no coat. So I pulled up alongside, and I offered him a ride. _ ”

Waverly presses her fingers into Nicole’s jawline. “You’re going to miss me.”

“Of course I’m going to miss you, you putt,” Nicole breathes out.

“I didn’t know,” Waverly says weakly. “You’ve done a really good job pretending that you don’t care if I go.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’ve been doing a really bad job of handling it.”

Waverly curls her fingers around the back of Nicole’s neck, pulling her down until their foreheads meet. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Nicole shrugs, her eyes fluttering closed. “I didn’t want to seem… needy.”

Waverly snorts softly. “So jerk was what you were going for instead?”

“Cool, actually.”

Waverly tips her head up, kissing Nicole’s cheek. “I’m not leaving  _ you _ .”

Nicole groans, trying to pull away. “Waves-”

“No,” Waverly says firmly, moving in as Nicole moves back. “I’m not leaving  _ you _ . I’m leaving Purgatory. Temporarily. But I’m still with  _ you _ .”

Nicole scoffs, straightening up and looking over Waverly’s head at Purgatory beneath them, stretched out. “You’re not going to come back here.”

Waverly stiffens against her. “I’m not my mom. I’m  _ not _ your dad.” She waits until Nicole is looking at her before she keeps talking. “I’m not going to go out there and just forget that this is my home. That  _ you _ are my home.”

“I’m your small-town girlfriend, and you’re going to be out there, all-”

“If you say ‘Hot Child in the City,’ I’m pushing you off this cliff,” Waverly warns.

Nicole rolls her eyes, pulling Waverly closer to her. She can feel the hood of the car at the back of her legs and Waverly against her front. She tries to hold onto this feeling, Waverly in her arms, so that the emptiness doesn’t hurt as much in a few days. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Waverly repeats.

“Even people who don’t mean to leave, do,” Nicole says quietly.

Waverly is quiet for a minute. “That’s not fair,” she finally says.

“I know,” Nicole says quickly. “But he’s gone. And even if he didn’t  _ want _ to leave, he did.”

“So what?” Waverly asks. “You think that as soon as I cross the line out of Purgatory, I’m just going to shrivel up and die?” She laughs, a hard, sharp sound that echoes against Nicole’s chest. “Like, this town is the only thing keeping me alive?”

“Curtis left and look what happened,” Nicole says, her throat burning.

“He left a hundred times before that and  _ nothing _ happened,” Waverly says firmly. She exhales loudly, pushing her hair out of her face. “

“You’re…” Nicole takes a deep breath. “You’re really important to me.”

“I love you, too,” Waverly says dryly.

“But all the important people leave,” Nicole continues. “My dad. Your mom.  _ Curtis _ .” She scoffs. “Wynonna probably won’t even wait until the truck is out of sight before she takes off.”

“And your mom is here,” Waverly counters. “Gus. Sheriff Nedley. Nathan. Chrissy and Rosita. Doc.”

“You’re just listing people now,” Nicole complains.

“It doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

“It doesn’t mean any of them are you,” Nicole fires back.

Waverly smiles tightly. “I hope not.” She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you here, you know.”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip, but nods her head. “I know.”

“Purgatory doesn’t have a college, though. And the community college in the city won’t give me what I need to-”

Nicole hums, sliding her hands up and down Waverly’s arms. “I know,” she says again.

“And Purgatory might not always be my plan,” Waverly admits slowly.

Nicole feels her stomach turn over. Purgatory has always been  _ her _ plan. Purgatory is her home, the only place she’s ever known, and she’s never once thought that living somewhere else was something she wanted to do. 

“But you are,” Waverly continues. “And that’s always going to be true.”

Nicole looks at Waverly for a moment, searching her eyes for the lie. She shakes her head. “How do you know that?”

Waverly’s hand presses against her chest, fingers fanning out across her breastbone. “Because I love you, idiot.”

Nicole sighs and pulls Waverly close, resting her chin on the top of Waverly’s head. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” Waverly says, the words hot against Nicole’s chest. “I’m sorry you spent all summer thinking I was leaving you.”

Nicole twists the ends of Waverly’s hair around her fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you.”

“We’ll get better at it,” Waverly promises. “The talking.”

“We’ll have to, so far away.”

Waverly groans gently. “Not  _ that _ far.”

“Far enough,” Nicole breathes out. She leans back a little and tips Waverly’s face up, her fingers at Waverly’s chin. “Far enough that I can’t do this all the time.” She kisses Waverly slowly, their lips pressed together as the song changes, Bad English drifting through the open windows of the car.

Waverly pulls away, her nose brushing against Nicole’s. “Then we should try to get as many in as we can before I go, don’t you think?”

“ _ Sometimes I wonder how I'd ever make it through, through this world without having you. I just wouldn't have a clue. _ ”

Nicole smiles softly. “We probably should.”

Waverly pushes up again, her mouth finding Nicole’s. “I’m not leaving you,” she promises in between kisses. Her hands curl into Nicole’s shirt tightly.

“ _ 'Cause sometimes it seems like this world's closing in on me, and there's no way of breaking free, and then I see you reach for me _ .”

Nicole pulls back, panting. “Even if all I am is a small town deputy? Living in Purgatory while you’re off in the city, changing the world?”

“If that’s all you ever are,” Waverly repeats. She shakes her head. “No, baby. That’s not all you’re ever going to be.”

“How do you-”

Waverly cuts her off. “You’re going to be so much more than that. You’re  _ amazing _ .”

“I’m-”

“You’re going to be Sheriff one day,” Waverly says firmly.

Nicole scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

Waverly pulls back, meeting Nicole’s eyes. “You are. I know it.”

“ _ Sometimes I wanna give up, wanna give in, I wanna quit the fight. And then I see you, baby, and everything's alright, everything's alright. _ ”

“How can you possibly know that?” Nicole asks, tucking a strand of hair behind Waverly’s ear.

“I’ve always known it.” Waverly smiles crookedly. “And when have I ever been wrong about you?”

“I have a list,” Nicole breathes out, kissing Waverly softly.

Waverly laughs against her mouth, gripping Nicole’s arms tightly. “You’re going to be amazing. And you’re going to do it here, in Purgatory. And when I’m done with school, I’m going to come back here, and we’re going to be amazing.  _ Together _ .” She smiles wide, eyes hopeful.

“ _ When I see you smile, I can face the world. Oh, oh, you know I can do anything. When I see you smile, I see a ray of light. Oh, oh, I see it shining right through the rain. When I see you smile, baby, when I see you smile at me. _ ”

“Okay,” Nicole says quietly. “Okay.”

Waverly wets her bottom lip and grabs Nicole’s hand, pulling her around the front of the car and opening the driver’s door. She slides across the driver’s seat, settling in the middle of the bench. “Let’s go,” she calls.

“Go where?” Nicole asks even as she gets in the car after Waverly, pulling the door shut. She turns down the radio, but Waverly reaches over and turns it up again.

“Wynonna is at the garage, working on her bike.” Waverly’s hand curls over Nicole’s knee, squeezing softly. “And Gus is closing tonight. So we have my house all to ourselves.” She leans up, her mouth brushing against Nicole’s ear. “And we have a whole summer of kissing to catch up on.” She pulls back, smiling still.

“Okay,” Nicole says hoarsely, shifting the car into reverse. “Okay.”


End file.
